Choices
by lastcrazyhorn
Summary: Unsub kidnaps Hotch and Reid. They have to have sex to get out of there in one piece. Non-Con Bottom!Hotch


**Choices**

Reid opened his eyes with a groan. His head was throbbing and even the dim light hurt his eyes. He tried to lift his hand to his head, only to have it be brought up short. Squinting, he saw that he had one arm chained to a wrought iron bed frame. He was also shirtless. The sudden realizations brought awareness back in a rush and he opened his eyes wide as his brain tried to catch up with what was going on.

Beside him, something shifted and he turned to find himself looking at an also shirtless Hotch laid out flat on his back beside him. The other man's hands were above his head, tied tightly to metal frame of the bed. Hotch's eyes were wide, but his features relaxed when he saw that Reid was awake.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked in a low voice, sounding remarkably composed considering their situation.

"My head feels like it's been through a blender," he shrugged, wincing with the action. Reaching up with his free hand, he touched the back of his head gently, finding a painful knot. Bringing his fingers around, he wasn't surprised to see them damp with blood.

"The unsub got you first and then tasered me," Hotch said ruefully, pulling slightly on his bound wrists in frustration, his triceps noticeably flexing against the pale skin of the underside of his arms.

He did a quick inventory of what was available to them. They still had their pants, but his pockets had been emptied. Their shoes were also gone, as well as their socks.

_At least our feet aren't tied_, he thought.

There was a sheet covering the mattress under them, but no bedspread. Hotch's head was on the bed's only pillow. Beside the bed, on Hotch's side, there was an old battered set of drawers. He eyed it and then looked at the older man's position thoughtfully. In order for him to get there, he'd have to straddle Hotch's body. On the other side of the drawers was a plush armchair; a distinct contrast to the rest of the room. He had a bad feeling about what that might mean.

Other than that, the room appeared completely empty.

"How long have you been awake?" He asked, immediately feeling stupid. There was no clock and their watches had been taken.

Hotch grimaced, but answered, "Longer than you."

Something squeaked outside the door and they instantly froze, barely breathing as they waited for something to happen. For some reason, Reid's hand found Hotch's shoulder and squeezed gently before letting go as the door opened to reveal their unsub.

Immediately, his mind flashed back to what they knew about this unsub. Same sex couples had begun disappearing more than two months ago. They would stay missing for up to three days before reappearing at random gas stations throughout the state. Although still alive, at least one member of the couple was always been raped and beaten, while the other appeared physically okay, but clearly traumatized.

The unsub entered the room and he blinked at the sight of a woman striding towards them. She had dark hair and red lipstick so dark it could have been painted on with blood. He wondered whether or not it was.

"You look surprised to see me, Dr. Reid," she said, smiling when he flinched at her use of his name.

_She has our credentials; of course she knows my name!_

Still, it was strange to be called "Dr." by an unsub.

"Why have you taken us?" Hotch asked, leveling his glare on the woman.

Surprisingly, she barely glanced at him, before turning to Reid and saying, "Dominants are annoying. Don't you think Dr. Reid? Never know when to shut up and let the rest of us have our say," she said brightly, reaching out a well manicured hand to Hotch's stomach and trailing her fingers down the light trail of dark hair that disappeared under his pants.

He could feel Hotch tense beside him at her touch and then visibly try to relax.

"They never listen to other people," she said, slicing a line across his abdomen with a sharp fingernail. "Never shut up," another line was sliced. "Always think they're right," she sliced another line and then dipped her fingers inside the top of his pants.

"Don't you think so, Dr. Reid?" She asked, pressing her fingers farther under the edge of Hotch's pants.

Reid could hear Hotch's slow intake of breath as the woman slid her entire hand under his trousers and made a visible fist presumably around his cock.

"That," Reid said slowly, licking his lips and glancing briefly at Hotch. "That can be true of almost anyone. Is there someone in particular you had in mind?" He asked, his voice ending with a slight squeak.

The woman sighed. "I always hope to find one that isn't so well trained in defending the other, but it never happens. Removing her hand from Hotch's pants, she lifted it up to her nose and carefully sniffed each finger.

"You even smell like the others," she said at last, finally deigning to look at Hotch. She touched his face and he flinched backwards from her hand as far as his bindings would allow him.

"You know I'm right, Aaron," she said, grabbing his cheek tightly and leaning in closer. "They all know." He hissed at she raked her nails down his face, leaving blood filled lines in their place.

"So I'll give you a choice, Dr. Reid," she said, stepping back from the bed and turning all of her attention on him once more. "You can fuck him," she paused, smiling when Hotch clenched his jaw tightly at her words, "Or I can."

He blinked, trying to see if he could work out some kind of third option.

"By 'fuck,'" he said, feeling the way Hotch had stiffened up with his use of the word, "You want me to be _intimate_ with him?"

"Your cock. Up. His. Ass, Dr. Reid," she said with a leer, dampening any hope he might have had of being able to get out of this with just a blow job. "I want you to touch him. I want you to kiss him. I want you to make love to him and make him realize he _belongs_ only to you."

He could see sweat beginning to appear on Hotch's face as she continued to talk. Neither of them wanted this, but which option would be worse for Hotch?

"And if I were to refuse," he said slowly, making sure she knew it was only a question.

She smiled again and then turned to retrieve something from behind the armchair. As she stood up, both men gasped at the monstrosity she was holding in her hand. It was easily the biggest dildo Reid had ever seen, and he would guess that it was the same for Hotch.

"They market this baby as 'Thor,'" she said cheerfully, rubbing a hand down its massive side. "If you refuse what I ask Dr. Reid, then I fuck Aaron with this until he bawls like a baby." Her smile turned cruel. "_Dry_," she added with a sadistic laugh.

He saw Hotch's eyes flick at him just as he thought of another question to ask. "If I'm going to make him," he paused, thinking of the word she had used, "_Belong_ to me, I'm going to need lube."

_Please don't make me do this dry, _he pleaded silently.

"If you insist, Dr. Reid," she nodded her head at him, stepping back to put away 'Thor.' "We can choose to be more humane than our dominant counterparts. There is lube in the top drawer, should you decide to use it. Is that your decision then?" She asked, her eyes glittering darkly at him.

He glanced at Hotch who very slowly nodded his acquiescence, his knuckles white from clenching his fists so hard.

"Yes," he swallowed hard. "I'll do it."

. . .

They talked in the few minutes they were alone after the unsub had left the room to 'get into something more comfortable.' God only knew what she'd be wearing when she returned.

"I'm so sorry Hotch," he murmured softly, feeling utterly helpless. He could only imagine how the other man felt.

Hotch shook his head, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed around the stiff silence that had settled around them. "You didn't have any choice. I'd much rather you do it than be subjected to her idea of 'intimacy.'"

"I—I don't suppose you've ever, you know . . . ?" He tried to ask, unable to make himself say the words.

Hotch gave a bitter snort. "No, I haven't," he paused then asked just as carefully. "You?"

"Not really. I mean, there were a couple of blow jobs in grad school, but that was mostly just experimentation, I think," he said, looking away nervously.

"Reid—_Spencer,"_ that got his attention back. Hotch was staring at him intently. "I wouldn't judge you even if you had been with a man in that way. It's not my place."

"Yeah," he tried to smile, but the situation was quickly draining him of energy.

The click of the doorknob distracted them from their conversation as the unsub reentered the room. She was dressed in a filmy black nightgown that did little to hide her nudity. In one hand she held a dildo and in the other she held his gun.

_Oh good, more phalluses, _his mind added sarcastically.

She settled down in the armchair beside them with the gun still in her hand and the dildo between her thighs.

"You miss me?" She asked, showing pearly white teeth that reminded him more of a shark's mouth than a woman's. "Time to start. Remember what I said. Treat him like a lover and I won't have to get involved."

"The lube," Hotch whispered, keeping his brown eyes directly on him.

"I have to . . ." he waved his hands at the other man's torso.

"You're going to have to eventually," Hotch said, his voice just short of a growl.

Licking his lips again, he nodded and then carefully maneuvered himself atop the other man, feeling the strength of Hotch's abdomen under his thighs as he reached for the set of drawers next to them. His cuffed wrist did have some give, thanks to the chain that it was attached to, but it was still almost not enough. He barely got the drawer open and then could only reach his hand into it, snagging the first object he found. Lube.

_Thank God_, he breathed in silent prayer as he pulled back from the edge of the bed, feeling his hand tingling as blood flow returned to his fingers.

Placing the more than half full bottle of lube beside the pillow behind Hotch's head, Reid sat back up and tried to decide what to do next.

"Just . . . Just kiss me, Spencer," Hotch suggested in a strained voice.

He half expected the woman to chastise him for listening to the 'dominant,' but luckily she said nothing. Resting his hands on either side of the man's shoulders, he very slowly leaned over and lightly pressed his lips against Hotch's own.

Kissing was okay. He had experience with it, both male and female, but that didn't mean he had ever thought he would find himself in this situation. Hotch was his boss, his coworker, and on good days, he liked to consider him a friend. He wondered what this would do to them. He hoped it didn't destroy their relationship.

Slowly, he moved one of his hands up and over Hotch's raised arms and found his head, stroking his fingers gently through the soft locks. Keenly aware of the woman's eyes on them and her threat, he wanted to make sure she didn't have any reason to renege on their arrangement.

That . . . and it was sort of thrilling to be _touching_ Hotch like this at all. The man was private, and that sense of self-protectiveness had only increased after Foyet had attacked him in his own home. They didn't shares rooms on assignment much, but when they had, he had always tried to avert his eyes when Hotch had changed.

He was surprised when Hotch opened his mouth, letting him slowly dip his tongue into the warm wet cavity behind it. Stroking Hotch's tongue with his own, he tried to convey to the other man just how careful he was going to be with him.

_I'd never hurt you_, he thought desperately.

Next to the hand still caressing Hotch's hair, he felt the man's upper arms tense and then the sensation of teeth on his lower lip as it was slowly pulled into Hotch's mouth. He pushed his lip forwards, unconsciously rubbing his hips up against the older man's own. Instantly, Hotch froze underneath him and he sat up, watching for any other kind of negative reaction.

"Are you-?" he started to whisper, before catching the slight motion of Hotch's head shaking against his palm.

He watched as Hotch's tongue slowly slid out of his mouth and rubbed over the places he had licked. He felt the lungs under him expand and fall as his boss regained control over his reactions.

"I'll do my best to make this easy for you, Hotch," he said softly, rubbing his free hand over the uninjured side of the man's face.

"I trust you," Hotch growled out, causing him to still completely atop his body. It was such a meaningful statement for anyone to say to _him_, but for Hotch to say it was even more incredible.

"I trust you," Hotch repeated, and in that moment he finally understood.

Hotch couldn't say any of the other things he was feeling and still keep it together. He couldn't give voice to how frightened he was, or how he loathed being out of control, or even how much he _didn't_ want this. Saying, 'I trust you,' was the only thing he _could_ do, and that only made Reid admire him more.

"I'll do my best not to hurt you," he promised, leaning down to kiss him again before anything else happened.

That was the other thing about Hotch. No one touched him. He touched people, but no one touched _him_, with the exception of his son and occasionally Dave. And so, if nothing else, Reid was reveling in the once in a lifetime chance to experience him skin to skin, body to body.

He broke the kiss after a moment and brushed his lips against the uninjured side of Hotch's face. His lips caught on the beginnings of stubble, and he pressed his nose into the man's cheek to breathe deeply of his scent. Hotch obliged him, turning his head slightly to give him access to his ear and throat, and he kissed each slowly and gently.

This close to the man, he could feel his heartbeat pounding steadily—if a bit fast—against his own chest. He could feel the breath whooshing in and out of his lungs. He heard it catch in Hotch's throat as he caught his earlobe between his teeth and bit down slightly, rubbing the tip with his tongue and then sucking lightly on it. He could smell the other man's sweat as it dripped down his neck and caused the hair in his underarms to shine damply in the low light of the room.

He licked salty sweat from the hollow at the base of Hotch's throat and felt the man twitch under him. Silently, he wondered when Hotch had last been touched, last been taken care of. He wondered if Haley had been the last, and knew that if nothing else, Hotch likely would have been the one on top then.

Sliding his body down slowly, dipping his thumbs into the sweat slick underarms and then further, he caught his mouth on one of the scars that Foyet had left on his boss's chest. Above him, he heard Hotch's throat spit out an unidentifiable sound just as he gently sucked it into his mouth. He let go with a soft pop and then slid to another one. Again and again he sucked each knife scar into his mouth, and each time, he heard a faint sound squeeze itself from Hotch's throat.

He started to imagine that he was sucking out the poison from each one; sucking out the misery of that time, as well as the horror of what Hotch had been left with after Foyet had finished with him.

Finally reaching the top of Hotch's trousers, he sat up and slid onto the bed beside him to pull his own cords off. He wanted to give Hotch a moment to get his brain around what was going to happen next. He wanted to show that there was a reason for Hotch's trust in him.

Well aware that his cheeks were flaming, he slid out of his pants and boxers in one swift action, placing them in a messy pile beside them. His cock was hard and it didn't help his embarrassment any. He hoped that Hotch wouldn't take his arousal in the wrong way.

"Hotch?" He whispered, resting his hands on the other man's belt. Hotch's body was beginning to tremble, despite his careful handling of him, and he knew without looking that their unsub was smiling cruelly at their discomfort and Hotch's unspoken fear.

Hotch had to clear his throat to speak this time, but when he did, he was able to say again, "I trust you." He could see the rounded lines of Hotch's muscles standing out from his bound arms, and knew that his friend was trying to clench down against his fear.

Slowly he moved his hands to Hotch's belt and opened it softly, before moving on to the snap and the zipper of the fastenings. He cursed silently when he accidentally brushed his hand against Hotch's groin and the man flinched again. He didn't want it to have to be like this. He wished he had his gun. He knew that he'd manage a bull's eye if he tried shooting their unsub right now.

It was making him nearly sick to his stomach as he was forced to remove Hotch's remaining clothes. He knew that his boss was human just like the rest of them, but that didn't mean he had ever wanted to see him like this. Scared. Vulnerable.

He knew that Hotch didn't like to be out of control; didn't like to be submissive to the will of others—even if it was the only thing between him and being brutally raped by a sadistically minded woman, but that knowledge didn't make it any better.

"I'll take care of you, I swear," he choked out, finally pulling Hotch's pants and underwear free of his ankles. One of Hotch's legs lifted up, bending at the knee and he could see the man's toes curling up tightly.

And still his erection persisted. He knew he should be thankful for it; he didn't want to imagine what the woman would have done if he hadn't been able to perform.

_Fisting?_ He tried not to visibly shudder at the image in his mind.

Unable to hold off any longer, he picked up the lube and poured some out onto his hand, warming it between his fingers before leaning in to cup Hotch's head again.

"Okay?" he whispered, brushing a lube slick finger across the edge of his boss's ass. It was intimate, and he hoped the fucking witch that was watching them was happy, because he wasn't and knew beyond a doubt that Hotch wasn't either. The last time he had seen Hotch look this off was after Foyet had killed Haley. The other man's eyes were a bit glassy, and he was slowly becoming drenched with sweat. He watched as Hotch's hands clenched and unclenched a number of times as he slowly pushed a finger into the incredible tightness that was his boss.

He couldn't imagine how the hell he was going to fit his cock in Hotch without killing him. Desperately he thought through every piece of literature, every smutty fic he had ever read when he had been cursed with insomnia.

He kissed Hotch again just as he added another finger, and smothering the other man's grunted cry with his mouth. If nothing else, he understood his friend's desire to keep his pain hidden from the bitch masturbating beside them.

_God, I hope she's using the dildo and not my gun—and if she is, I hope she left the safety off._

Suddenly he remembered something from a seminar he had taken more than a decade ago on the practices of safe sex.

"Hotch," he whispered, up to three fingers finally.

Brown eyes reestablished contact with his own and he felt his chest constrict painfully at the sight of Hotch in such discomfort.

"Try pushing out," he whispered, rubbing Hotch's face with his free hand. "It helps."

Licking his lips, Hotch asked, "You're sure?"

_You trust me, remember? _

"Promise."

Hotch nodded, and instantly something loosened up around his fingers, and Reid breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"Better?"

Hotch nodded, eyes closed tightly.

"Are you ready?"

No answer, so he repeated his question again. This time he got a stiff nod, and he watched as Hotch's jaw clenched down tightly in preparation. Grabbing the lube, he squeezed out a healthy amount and then shakily rubbed it up and down his cock. Removing his fingers, he rubbed the excess on the sheet beside him, not caring to look and see if there was anything there beside just lube.

Gripping the head of his cock, he guided himself into Hotch carefully, hearing a slight wheezing sound emanating from his boss as he moved.

He couldn't watch anymore as he sunk into his friend. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to do anything except fuck the man he admired most in the world. Hotch was tight around him, and he felt a groan from the man before actually hearing it. His hands slid over his strong chest, touching him as instructed; knowing better than most that he would never see this man like this again. He would never—and he wasn't sure he wanted to—and _gods_ _that felt good_, but his guilt was threatening to burn him alive from the inside out, and his headache was still pounding away in his head, behind his eyes.

Something slipped down his face and he couldn't be bothered to tell whether it was a tear or sweat. Hotch was so tight and warm, and his body was tensed up so tight he knew the man had to be hurting just from that alone. And probably a trip to the dentist would be in order for them both after this, and he groaned aloud at the horrible impending climax he felt moving up through his gut and at the base of his spine. He wanted it to be over and he never wanted it to be over, because god only knew what would happen then. His thrusts sped up of his own accord, and really it was the best thing he could, best thing he could do for Hotch—he wanted to believe himself; he knew the man wanted it to be over; they both wanted it to be over.

White light flared behind his eyelids and he cried out in a strangled voice as he came hard into the tightness that was Hotch.

He wasted no time in pulling out—_gentle, gentle, don't hurt him—_only to be shocked back to awareness by the sound of the monster still sitting beside them.

"Very nice Dr. Reid," her eyes glittering with the afterglow of an orgasm. And he wanted to vomit more in that moment than in any other, or so he thought until she spoke again.

"But aren't you going to take care of your partner?" She laughed, and he looked down to see that Hotch was half hard, even though his lip was bruised and bloody from biting down on it, and Reid almost couldn't move, couldn't see, his rage was so great.

"Suck him off," she spat, lifting his gun and pointing it lazily at them both.

And Hotch finally opened his eyes, red and bloodshot, and Reid tried to shake his head, tried to speak, but he couldn't.

"It's okay Spencer. It's okay," and bloody fucking _Hotch_ was still trying to be strong, trying to comfort _him_. "Just . . . do it."

_Just get it over with_, was what he didn't say.

And so very slowly, slow motion even, he felt himself moving down to suck Hotch into his mouth, when there was nothing left he wanted to do except maybe die or hide or both.

It didn't take long. For that, he was thankful. It didn't take long. Hotch was coming and he swallowed, because Hotch had to have him up the ass, and swallowing wasn't nearly as bad as that.

When it was over, he curled up on the bed next to his friend, wrapping his arms around himself and drawing his knees up to his chest. He didn't hear it when the unsub left, and he didn't give much of a damn when she came back and tasered them both into unconsciousness.

He only really woke up when the gas station clerk shook his shoulder and repeated, "Hey mister! Are you okay?"


End file.
